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Tag Archives: The Office

My lower back flared up with some pain yesterday, which started out as just a nagging soreness and ended up as a groan-inducing, Ben-Gay applying, Ibuprofen-taking sort of pain; the kind that makes you groan if you try to switch position on the couch or try to walk up the stairs to the second floor. There’s a spot that’s been really sensitive for the last three years (resulting from a month-long bed stay post-surgery), which flares up every once in a while, but has mostly kept its flarings to a dull pain. This is the first time my spot has exploded like this. (That’s what SHE said.) Exploded with pain, I should say. I knew things went downhill after you passed the age of 30, but never expected things to go down so fast. (That’s what SHE said. I love you Michael Scott.) Sorry about all the cheesy Office jokes, but it’s the only way for me to keep a sense of humor right now.

Things are literally falling apart in my brain. I was talking to my mom about it this morning and I started crying because “how the hell am I supposed to iron or clean out my closet with this back pain? I had plans today!” Yes, I am missing out on important stuff today. Instead I’ll be calling physical therapists to see if they are open today and if they can squeeze me in their schedule. Anybody want to take a guess which way my luck will swing??? Anybody?

Ok, I think this is all the concentration I can muster up today for my post. Must go make calls. Have a great day everyone!

What is it about certain days? Does the universe conspire to make some of your days more difficult? Could it be karma? Could it be that I attract lunacy around me?

What I was hoping for yesterday was a relaxing day. What I got was a day filled with all the chatty Kathys of the world. I only have a limited amount of patience for people who like to talk without taking a single breath between their thoughts – yesterday I was looking in my reserve tanks to find any remaining inkling of patience to help me avoid screaming on the top of my lungs in frustration.

Chatty Kathy #1 is a four-year-old girl who is staying at the hotel with her parents. Although she is absolutely precious and adorable – she really is – this girl can put Joan Rivers down in a question contest. I recently read a piece of trivia stating that the average four-year-old asks approximately 400 questions per day. This girl has asked me 400 questions every single morning for the last eight mornings. Where are you going? Why are you doing it? Where are you going? But why? Where? Why? Where? Why? WHEEERRREEE??? WHHHYYYYY??? It’s never-ending. God bless her, but I feel like I’ve been through an interrogation every time I venture out to say good morning to her parents. She’s like a pint-sized Jack Bauer:

WHEREEE???? WHYYYYY????

Chatty Kathy #2 incidentally goes by the name of Katerina, which could be roughly translated to Kathy in English. She’s a customer at my sister’s clothing shop where she ran into me yesterday afternoon while I was working at the shop. We get to talking about, what else? The current economic climate in Greece, which, granted, has been on everyone’s minds this year. But we’ve had this conversation before. Several times. Verbatim.

Cue Katerina’s entry. Pop conversation tape in brain. Press Play. Drive Voula crazy. This conversation includes her business practices at her sweets shop. What kind of cream she uses in her pastries. How many days she can sell them fresh. Why she throws them out after the third day. How she’s tried pastries at other shops and what quality they were in. This went on for 45 minutes. She’s standing the whole time. You ever have those conversations with people that generate this nervous feeling deep inside? That’s what it was like – I felt this nervous, anxious vibration in my chest. All I wanted to do was stand up and scream at the top of my lungs:

LEAVE PLEASE!!!!

It’s a miracle I contained myself.

Chatty Cathy #3 found me in the evening when I was out at a café enjoying the last full moon of the summer with my mom, sister and a friend. This woman has chatty running through her veins, as her sister is my neighbor and I have been the victim of her chattiness many a times. Lady, let me tell you something: I really have no interest to hear all the details about your shopping trip, for a kitchen rug no less, nor do I want to hear about it for half an hour. Take a breath, please. And mom, really, you don’t have to encourage her – I beg of you.

The object of her affection.

Thank the Lord above my sister came with her own car and after an hour she gets up to leave. Success! I made a clean break and I hightailed it out of there. For all the pain and suffering that I went through I rewarded myself with a joint and a couple of back-to-back episodes of The Office. A little Dwight Schrute makes you forget your trouble, that’s for sure.